


Torch

by Andraste



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen, Minor Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-01
Updated: 2002-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andraste/pseuds/Andraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Niem was grimly proud of herself for keeping her head and completing her set task."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torch

**Author's Note:**

> Something for the peripheral character challenge, because we never did find out what happened to her. You don't get a lot more peripheral than this without being noted as "second Peace Keeper on the left" in the closing credits.

The screams didn't last long enough for Niem to be sure she'd had heard them. It should have been impossible to detect any sounds from the Gammack Base this far below ground, behind the thick walls of the vault. Of course, there would have been a _lot_ of screams in the brief interval between fiery death and deadly silence. It was very quiet now.

There had been no screaming within the vault. Niem was grimly proud of herself for keeping her head and completing her set task. All of the records she hadn't had time to copy before Scorpius warned her of the impending disaster were sealed in safely. She'd even managed to find enough techs to help her move the Aurora Chair itself, although she had aroused some suspicion doing so.

She wondered, briefly, weather she had done the right thing in following her master's order not to tell anyone what was coming. But no. They would only have panicked, and Scorpius had taught her more effectively than any Peace Keeper indoctrination that directionless emotion was useless.

The data was stored on heat-proof, cold-proof, explosion-proof material - Scorpius was rather paranoid about losing his raw data. Unfortunately for Niem, the vault itself was not sealed against the heat.

All Peace Keeper facilities were designed to be comfortably cool, but they were not built to burn. Nor were their generators - the tech could tell for certain that something had gone badly wrong on the surface when all the lights went out. She cursed the idiot who hadn't made the vault an entirely self-contained system, and hoped that the lock and ventilation would continue to work. It was very dark. Not that it mattered, really.

The insulation slowed the rising temperature, but not enough. It took an arn before Niem started to sweat, and another before she felt her head begin to swim, her thoughts melting away. There was nothing to do but wait for the Living Death to claim her. She didn't waste energy (or air - with the ventilation out she might suffocate in here before the brain damage took her) on terror.

Instead, she found her way to the banks of data by feel, and ran her fingers over the codes carved into their spines. Brushing up against other people's memories as her own were leached away by the heat. Her work, at least, was secure. Everything that had been in the head of the human John Crichton, except the single clump of information that was of interest to Scorpius, was  
safe. Niem had watched his odd memories unfurl with as much surprise as someone who regularly witnessed such displays could muster. For a creature that looked so Sebacean, he had a very odd mind. She hoped that the neural clone Scorpius had placed in his brain would bear fruit, that the effort would be for something.

Captain Crais's files were next to those of the man he'd hunted across the Uncharted Territories - there was another story that Niem would miss the end of. The memories themselves were not especially remarkable, but she had never seen anyone spend so long in the Aurora Chair in a single day. When Niem had finally unstrapped him and cleaned him up, he'd been startlingly  
sane. The effect would bear further study. From someone other than her, obviously.

In marked contrast: more of the endless, pointless loops of nonsense from the Banick that never took them to the place they wanted to go. Niem always wondered what good those were, but her master could find a use for most things. Perhaps Scorpius kept the irrelevant files out of the simple fascination that eventually gripped anyone who examined the insides of other people's skulls.

She stretched out her hands again, and felt her way to the Chair itself. Sitting down, Niem waited, plating and unwinding her long red hair. It was a nervous habit from her childhood, but there was no-one to observe her small weakness now. Eventually, though, she found herself rocking back and forth and murmuring, as the Banick used to do. It was a common reaction to  
both the Chair and to the Living Death. She wondered what it was about memories, or the loss of them, that made people whimper.

Soon enough, she gripped the arms of the Chair to stop herself. Although the cameras could not see through the darkness, there were probably microphones, and since the vault belonged to Scorpius there might be infra-red sensors as well. Niem did not like to think of him listening to her break down. He had taught her to be quiet.

As her thoughts burned away in the dark, she wondered idly what his mind was like, and wished that she'd been able to run him through his own information retrieval device, just once, in order to find out. It was a mad idea, justifiable only in light of her imminent end. Niem hoped that she hadn't said anything out loud.

Another mad idea: she wished that Scorpius had used the Aurora Chair on her so that her memories would be filed away here too. If Crichton, or Captain Crais, or even the Banick slave, died today then no-one would forget them. She had held the proof of their existence in her hands, wrung it out of them with the push of a button. She would leave nothing behind but a mindless  
shell, hair twisted by failing fingers.

Niem was aware that her last service to Scorpius might be as a test subject. The Living Death intrigued him as all manifestations of Sebacean heat sensitivity did. She hoped, though, that he would be kind enough to let storing his data be her last task. Niem thought that she had earned her peace, although she would never feel his hands close about her neck one last time.

After that, she didn't think much at all.


End file.
